


Lycanthropy

by tyrantmoves



Series: Never really was a Jedi [2]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn with Feelings, ahsoka is a very bad girl, destroying the purity of a jedi, this is me practicing lemons, wolffe is even worse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-10-18
Packaged: 2018-07-11 18:08:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7064515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyrantmoves/pseuds/tyrantmoves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commander Wolffe had stopped caring about the war a long time ago, and he certainly had never cared for the Jedi's prudish, puritanical belief system. Especially when it got in the way of his more unsavoury appetites.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this pretty quickly, I just wanted to start playing around with writing more explicit content. The first chapter sets the stage for that; I have no idea when I'll update or where this is going, just a vague sense of how this relationship will pan out.
> 
> I don't see this fic being very long -- somewhere between 3 - 5 chapters max. I might even just end it here, who knows.
> 
> Feedback welcome!

Commander Wolffe didn’t hate the Jedi, per sae. But after losing an eye to Asajj Ventress, he wasn’t sure that he was particularly fond of them either. There was a tiny sliver that went deeper than her lightsaber had gone in; it dug through the eyeball cavities of his skull, shredded through the slug-like matter of his brain and buried itself like a parasite in his thoughts. Every time he heard the high-powered whir of a saber clanging on another, or the visceral light as the laser unsheathed, he cringed inside, the parasite digging deeper, birthing more.

Deep down, Wolffe thought, he’d rather be dead than a cripple serving someone else’s war.

If it was anyone other than Plo Koon, he might even have deserted or quit. Either the hard way, by getting his face so disfigured no one would recognize him and escaping to the Outer Rim, or the time-tested easier way, accompanied by a flask of cheap Gungan moonshine and a single shot from his blaster. Or maybe he’d just do it the way so many of his brothers did it; with reckless abandon, throwing themselves into battle so carelessly it should well have been considered suicide.

In the interim, he had a peaty whiskey, a loud, anonymous bar where he could drink on the Senate’s tab and a night off: above all, a night alone. It was these little moments that he lived for, now.

\

Ahsoka was just happy to be allowed at the bar, let alone while the clone’s were _drinking_ . That being said, Anakin kept a firm handle on the night and nothing was going to get too crazy, but still. She was allowed in a _bar_. Every other teenager in the galaxy had probably done this a million times over by now and although she loved being a Jedi, she loved fighting the good war, and she loved kicking clanker’s shiny asses, it felt good to be normal.

“Hey,” Fives nudged her, leaning in conspiratorially. “Look who it is!”

They were sitting on the second floor of the bar, the dining area, that overlooked the first floor. Ahsoka saw what Fives had been gesturing towards; Commander Wolffe, all alone at the bar.

“That’s sad,” she commented sincerely. “Don’t his men want to spend time with him?”

Some of the other clones were listening now and they laughed uproariously that this remark. “Wolffe? Are you kidding? He probably gave everyone the slip, fast as he could.”

Anakin, sitting at the other end of the table and half-way through his dinner, was listening now. He frowned. “Is he all right?”

The clones immediately righted themselves, adopting a more respectful tone, and Rex replied, “Oh yeah, that’s just Wolffe being Wolffe, General. Always been a bit of a loner, see. It’s just his way.”

“Sounds ... lonely,” Ahsoka said lamely, feeling heat rise in her cheeks. Give her a battlefield and she could seize it without thinking; navigating dinner time gossip ... a whole different story.

“Don’t worry about it, Ahsoka,” Anakin reassured, returning to cutting into his meal. Not looking up, he continued, “I love spending time with you guys but every leader just needs some time alone to decompress. It’s tough being on all the time for your men.”

“Excellent point, General,” Fives nodded sagely. With a wicked grin flashed her direction though, he added, “Commander Tano should go over and talk to him, maybe. Leader to leader, decompressing, sharing knowledge.”

Ahsoka gaped while Anakin thought about this for a moment, and commended, “That might be a great idea. Go on, Ahsoka. If you’re worried about him, you should get down there and have a conversation with him.” He smiled too, a bit too mischievously for Ahsoka’s liking, and repeated: “Leader to leader. It’ll be good for you.”

Annoyed at this humiliation, Ahsoka thrust herself off her chair and began the trip down to the bar. Feeling the clone’s and Anakin’s eyes on her back as she moved down the staircase, she tried to focus on calm. On ... peace, and compassion. Wolffe needed compassion right now, and that more important than being rattled around by her men.

She approached Wolffe, sliding onto a bar stool beside him. He only grunted her name in acknowledgement, taking a defiant sip of his drink.

“Wolffe,” she greeted in turn. Silence. Long, thin silence, awkward between them. “So ...” Ahsoka ventured, drumming a hand on the bar. “What’s going on? How ... are you?” She drummed harder, her anxiety forming the rhythm of this tune deaf conversation.

His hand shot out to grab hers. “Stop that,” he commanded. “I’m here for a fucking drink, not a conversation. Do you want a beer or not?” His hands were calloused on her slender fingers and Ahsoka jerked from his grasp.

Ahsoka, startled, stammered, “Oh! Well, I can’t really ... I mean ...” Wolffe gazed at her coldly with his one good eye, making Ahsoka flush. Following the traditions of the Jedi Order had never, in all her life, been a source of embarrassment for Ahsoka. Here she was now, distressed at a clone commander’s silent judgement of her.

“Why not?” he asked gruffly, not looking at her again.

Ahsoka rubbed her bare arm uncomfortably. Before she could begin, Wolffe paused in lifting his drink to his mouth and without looking at her, said, “Don’t do that either.”

Thankfully, Ahsoka was starting to feel defensive, an emotion that she had far more experience with. Casting an angry glare upstairs, where the 501st were overlooking this interaction with undoubted amusement, she snapped, “Why not?!”

Wolffe turned his head to her, face hard and unfriendly. He may have been the same age as Rex but in the dark light of the bar and with the eerie cybernetic glow from his fake eye, he look a hundred years older and more dangerous. Leering at her, he drawled, “It’s not fair that only you get to touch yourself. Might have to help myself, if you keep it up.”

Ahsoka leapt from her seat and stormed off, baffled, mortified and above all, thankful that her guys upstairs couldn’t have heard a word of that. Commander Wolffe could drink alone all night, for all she cared.

\

Many months later, Commander  Wolffe found her, pretty, naive, flustered thing, sitting perched on a bar stool, hiding under a cloak like any other school girl sneaking into a bar, Wolffe felt his appetite lurch. Starting from his pelvis, shuddering out to his groin, he knew what he wanted before he even plopped down beside her. The heavy bass music throbbed in beat with his blood, loud and pressing in. Pushing past grinding patrons and drunk groups of friends, he approached her.

“Dangerous for a pretty girl to be alone here,” Wolffe breathed down her neck. Ahsoka tensed but did not start; of course not, she was a Jedi, and probably knew he’d entered the bar long before he got within this distance of her. Turning, Ahsoka pulled down her hood and opened her mouth to reply, but Wolffe hand, silencing her. “Don’t care why you’re here. I won’t rat you out.”

“I ...” She looked away and it was too dark for him to catch her expression. “Just wanted to be alone.”

“Said I didn’t care, Tano,” Wolffe repeated. “I’ll stick around, keep the bad guys away.” He gestured with his hand, the dark bar lit only by neon dance lights and blinking advertisements on the holoscreens.

“Yeah, thanks,” Ahsoka replied bitterly, resting both elbows on the bar and folding her arms.

Wolffe decided to take his chances, half because he was three beers past solitary-drinking and about two more until easy company was all he would be craving. “Of course, might require payment,” he added, leaning over to pull a bar stool out beside her. He was bold, coming close into her personal space, so he knew she could feel the heat of his skin near her.

This close, he could see she looked forlorn and ruminating. “Whatever the fuck happened,” Wolffe growled, plopping down. He looked around for a bartender before saying, “Get over it.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice.”

The wookie bartender came around. “Two beers,” Wolffe ordered.

“No, that’s fine --” Ahsoka tried to challenge, startled.

“She’s just trying to be demure. _Two beers_.” The bartender looked between them, confused, emitting a strange growl sound in question. “Go on, then!” Wolffe barked, and the wookie made a noise conceding defeat and leaves.

“What are you doing?” Ahsoka hissed, looking genuinely upset. “I can’t --”

“You look like you could use it.” The beers came. Picking up his drink, he said, “This about Krell? I heard what happened to Rex and his men. Not a good day to be a clone.”

Ahsoka flinched and Wolffe knew he’d hit the mark on the head. “I’m sorry,” she almost whispered.

“Not your fault,” Wolffe said.

“Rex wouldn’t even look at me -- he just ...” she looked strangled and upset. Voice throaty, she confessed, “I tried to go over and see the guys, make sure they were okay, Rex ... I’ve never seen him so angry. He told me the last thing they needed was another Jedi around.”

“Good for him,” Wolffe approved, taking another sip. He pushed the other beer closer to Ahsoka but she didn’t take it.

“Fuck off, Wolffe,” she snapped.

He grinned at this expletive. “Harsh words -- didn’t think padawans had a colourful language like that.” She scoffed. He continued, “Look, the 501st have good reason to be wary of Jedi right now. Give ‘em some space.”

She gave him a curious look from under the hood and finally said, “You’ve been there, huh?” His eyes narrowed but it was his turn not to respond. She focused on his scarred face and the artificial eye. “I’m sorry, Wolffe.”

“Stop fucking apologizing,” he growled, taking a large gulp of beer and slamming the drink back down. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“It looks horrific,” she disagreed.

“Well, thanks,” he replied sarcastically.

“That’s not what --”

“You want to touch it?” he asked suddenly.

“What?”

“Go on then, see for yourself. Not so scary.” Picking up her hand, he lifted it to his face. Her warm skin on his face was soothing and strange, evoking something rebellious and primitive in him. She should not be here, in a bar, and she should definitely not be touching one of her clones so intimately. _Her_ clone -- property, purpose, ownership. Anger infusing his unsated lust, Wolffe seized the hand of hers that was stroking his scar.

“Okay, that’s enough,” he commanded.

“I’m sorry -- “ she began to pull her hand away but Wolffe tightened his grip.

“What did I tell you about apologizing?” he reminded her. Still holding her hand, he brought it to rest on his lap and leaned back, studying her. Even under the dim lights of the bar he could see a flush steadily growing on her cheeks as he stared at her unabashedly. “My turn, now.”

“Wolffe, I should get going,” Ahsoka said noncommittally, making no motion to get up and leave. He ignored her and continued staring, very obviously moving his eyes from her face to her small but firm breasts, sliding his gaze along her lean legs, ending by focusing on her taut midriff.

“I hope you go the way of General Secura,” he muttered, raising his hand. Ahsoka watched it with anticipation and nervousness. He hovered over her body, deciding what he would do with her. “You should take fashion advice from her,” he said, looking into her eyes again. “Now that would improve morale for your boys.”

“Don’t!” she said breathily. “Don’t, don’t say that kind of stuff about them. We respect each other, it’s a professional relationship.”

“Sure,” Wolffe agreed. “They can respect you and still think about while they’re alone with their hands in their bunks.”

“You are --” She gasped.

Wolfe had decided, dropping his hand on her thigh and run his fingers along her leg, starting from her outer hip to her knee, moving back up to her hip, getting closer and closer to her inner thigh each time. She fell silent, tense at first as she stared at his hand. He fingers grew dangerously close to where she had her legs pressed together so he looked up, studied her face while he put his other hand between her knees and pried them open.

“We really shouldn’t,” Ahsoka mumbled, again, not sounding particularly convinced. “It’s not ...”

He hushed her as he pried open her knees, sitting facing each other. “Have a drink, Tano,” he urged. She did not resist as he opened her legs an inch, and taking both hands, he pressed the palms on her inner thigh near her knees and started sliding them up. Her breath caught and she jerked away. “Drink,” he insisted again. She shook her head weakly, still watching his hands.

He slid his hands under her bar stool and pulled her closer, dragging her towards him. “You’re having a bad day, I get that,” he comforted, leaning in again. “You think your boys don’t trust you anymore?”

She nodded, vulnerable and shaken, and, Wolffe was willing to bet, extremely wet. She shifted uncomfortably, undoubtedly unfamiliar with the lust and inflamed sensations flowering between her legs. Just thinking about that, the shy way she would part her legs for him, the hesitant, trusting way she would let him sink his cock into her ... Wolffe felt the familiar lurch in his stomach again and the pressure of his hardening.

“Let’s make that go away,” he persuaded, bringing his hands to cup her face. Running his hands down her lekkus, he whispered, “Let’s get out of here, me and you. I still trust you, Tano. You trust me?” She closed her eyes at the sensations he was eliciting on her head, fists clenched.

Pulling back, she opened her eyes and they shone with something reckless and innocent. Leaning over to the bar, she finally picked up the beer and took a large swig. She suppressed a gag but her twisted expression revealed her inexperience and displeasure at the flavour. Commander Wolffe smirked a bit and pulled the glass away from her, putting it back on the bar.

He grabbed her hand and led them both away from the bar. He couldn't see her face, and he was no Force-wielder that could detect her emotions, but she did not protest and that was good enough for him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 100% assumed togrutas and humans have basically identical sexual anatomies because I am lazy.

She’d been so quiet during the walk, following him like a ghost. Wolffe felt like a shepard leading a lamb, only she had chosen to come along. She wasn’t stupid enough to not know what was going to happen; what he wanted from her. That's what he told himself.

When they got to the room he’d pulled her hood down for her, still saying nothing. She didn’t meet his eyes as it fell away, cascading onto her shoulders and sending a ripple down the rest of the cloak. His eyes followed the flow of the cloak, sliding along her slender frame. How old was she, anyways? He thought suddenly. Did it matter? How old was he? 

The room was lit by a cheap, yellow light from a cracked fixture. The woolen, plaid-printed sheets looked clean, though, and the bathroom had fresh towels among the peeling wallpaper and chipped tiles. Dust hung in the air from a air ventilation system that hadn’t been cleared in ages, and he could faintly make out the sound of the groans and gasps from a neighbouring room. Paper thin, walls, too, then. He’d try not to call her Jedi, then, if they really got into it, he thought dryly.

She was still silent, impossibly large eyes blinking slowly as she studied the room. He wished she’d say  _ something _ . Anything at all.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

Okay, maybe not anything.

Instead of answering, he grabbed her forearm and turned her back towards him, moving to undo the strings drawing her cloak together. Slowly, he pulled one of the ends and it fell open, hanging off her shoulders in shape only. He waited, putting a hand under her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes. 

Her orange skin was still flushed a darker orange, her pupils dilated. 

“Go on, then,” he said. Wolffe waited.

She shrugged the cloak off with a roll of her shoulders, stepping closer more boldly, the shuffling of her clothes crackling like static. “I can still go?” Ahsoka meant it as a statement, he could tell, but at the end it fell apart and came out like a question.

It was now or never, he supposed, cupping her face roughly and shoving his lips roughly onto hers. She parted her lips in surprise at first, gasping, when he pressed his tongue along her the entry of her mouth. Hesitatingly, she opened her mouth more, letting him in slowly, and when he thought of what else he could be inching inside of her, he groaned and pushed them both onto the bed. Landing flat on top of her, hungrily moving his mouth against hers, pulling on her lower lip with his teeth, he pushed one hand up her shirt and she froze.

He lifted himself onto an elbow and made sure he was holding her gaze when he said, “Yeah, you can still go.” He started crawling his fingers up higher undershirt, over her smooth skin, and he wondered if Jedi wore any kind of undergarments. The thought that she maybe didn’t, that she never had, all those times they’d been tucked in together on missions, sent hot blood rushing through him all over again. “I’d really rather” -- he crawled his fingers up higher, feeling for where a bra should have been -- “You didn’t.” 

There was nothing under her shirt.

With the same boldness that had gotten him this far -- both in bed with women and in the war -- he used his whole hand to cup her small breast, massaging it and watching her face.

Ahsoka jerked against his touch and gasped, her whole body arching into his touch. Using his fingers to flit over her nipples, he drank in the sight of her spasming at every slight change in movement. The curve in her spine that pushed her forwards, towards him, got more pronounced, and he noticed her squeezing her legs together.

Repositioning himself to straddle her, he pushed her whole top up, exposing her breasts. She shivered in the cool air and closed her eyes, leaning back. Now cupping both breasts, one in each hand, he asked, “Still want to go?”

She didn’t answer. 

He massaged harder, more firmly, and she made a wince out of pleasure. “ _ Ah! _ Wo ... Wolffe, I --”

“Ahsoka,” he said throatily, feeling himself harden at the sight of her writhing under him. With immense effort, he pulled back his hands and she opened her eyes, surprised and disappointed. “Look at me,” he commanded, and she did, blinking lazily.

“What do you want?” he demanded. She looked startled at his crass tone.

“I don’t know,” she said, nervous and strained.

He leaned back onto his calves, creating more distance between them. “Then get out.”

“That’s not what I --” she caught herself, biting her lip as she thought. Wolffe suppressed a groan, hungrily watching her sharp teeth dig into her swollen lips. She had a wide, expressive mouth ... his mind jumped forwards into the night, when she’d wrap those lips around his cock and he’d stroke her lekkus until she came, thrusting in her mouth until he jerked off, he’d get her to swallow it and lick him clean ... 

She was talking again. Pay attention, he thought dazedly. “... I just ... fine. I want to stay.”

He dropped forwards so that one hand was on either side of her head and he hovered over her. “Yeah? You get what’s going to happen if you stay?”

Ahsoka didn’t answer, instead trying to prop herself on her elbows to kiss him. He dodged it by lifting his head and she dropped back down, defeated. Scowling, Wolffe growled, “I’m going to fuck you, if you stay. Do you want that?”

A pause and this time, she nodded. “Not good enough, Ahsoka. Say it.”

“I ...” she started reluctantly.

“If you can’t even say it, you shouldn’t be here.”

Taking a deep breath, she pushed herself to sitting and Wolffe let her, falling back onto his calves again so she could sit up straight. “I want it,” she said more confidently, with the recklessness that Wolffe had watched her pick up from her Master. Tilting her head to one side, she asserted, “I want to fuck you.”

That was good enough for him. He lunged forwards to grab her in a furious kiss. More intensely this time, she kissed back, letting him into her mouth quickly. Good, Wolffe thought somewhere in his mind. Good, a quick learner. Ahsoka brought her hands to his face and then slid them along his jaw, reaching to dig into his hair as she pushed her tongue back into his mouth this time.  _ Fuck _ .

Another thought. 

He pulled up for air, Ahsoka’s hands still gripping his hair, and rested his forehead against hers. “You can’t,” he started, gasping slightly. “You can’t tell anyone about this. No one. Understand?”

This time she initiated the kiss, biting hard on  _ his  _ lips. He smirked into their kiss and she pulled back, bring her hands to his chin, just long enough to say, “You too.” He nodded and she came in again, this time reaching for the hem of his shirt. She struggled though with the inexperience of having never undressed a grown man before, and Wolffe dropped his hands to help her. He lifted his shirt over his head and then quickly reached for hers, too. She lifted her arms compliantly and he tugged it off.

“Lean back,” he ordered, and she did, leaning back onto her palms, looking suddenly self-conscious again. He took a moment to admire her torso, the surprisingly strong arms for someone her age, the delicate collar bones, the perk of her small breasts. While he studied her, he felt her eyes on his chest; he’d been with enough partners by now to assume the women he fucked like what they saw.

Without waiting for an order, she came forward again and ran her hands over his chest, admiring the grooves and raised scars. Her hands were cool on his newly exposed skin and he grabbed both her wrists again. She tried to struggle free but he used his weight to throw them both back, pinning her wrists over her head.

“Ready?” he muttered into her near when he bent his mouth into her neck, biting and kissing along her skin. She nodded, breathing hard, and he used one hand to hold her thin wrists over her head and started sliding the other down the center of her torso ... between her breasts ... over her naval ... past the waistband of her pants, feeling warmth.

“Wolffe!” she half whispered, half exclaimed. His fingers were just above her folds between her legs, and she bucked her hips against his hand. 

He pressed kisses along her jaw, coming to her mouth, pressing a firm one on her lips. He asked, “Never even been felt up before, huh?” He pushed his fingers deeper, opening his index and middle finger into a v-shape. He purposely skipped the most sensitive part of her sex, instead, swirling his fingers in the thick wetness pooling between her legs. 

“Not even in the cloister?” He asked close to her ear, amused at her noises of frustration and rolling of hips. “You padawans don’t ever play doctor with each other, have some fun after lights out?”

“ _ Ah -- _ I don’t  _... ahh ...  _ you  _ know  _ we ...  _ dammit _ , just - just --”

Using her own wetness as lubricant, he brought up his fingers to swirl over her clitoris, grazing it in light circles and she almost shrieked. The circles became firmer, the area he was covering greater, and soon, his whole hand and her entire pussy was soaked.

“Wolffe, let me ...” she wriggled free of his grasp and immediately moved to start pulling off her pants, rolling away from him for only a few seconds to pull them off before returning. Now completely naked, she resumed her position under him, waiting breathily and her heart pounding so loud Wolffe was sure he could hear it.

“Do it again?” she asked, almost timidly, opening her legs a bit more to invite his hand back down. Wolffe almost chuckled at her eagerness but only smiled instead, moving to position himself between her legs. While unzipping his pants, he stared at her naked form, and took so long doing it that Ahsoka opened her eyes to see what he was doing. 

Reaching into his pants and briefs that had gotten uncomfortably tight, he pulled his erect member out, the relief of just being exposed making him close his eyes and lean back. Shit. It hadn’t even been that long since the last time he’d done this, had it? Her excitement and curiosity was infectious, it seemed.

Ashoka waited and when he opened his eyes she was staring at his dick, eyes wide, with apprehension. “Are you going to --”

Instead of answering, he grabbed both her legs and pulled them open wider as he dragged her down the bed, closer to him. She gave a yelp in surprise that melted into a loud moan when Wolffe pushed his fingers inside of her.

_ Fuck _ , he inserted a second finger, trying to stretch out the inside of her. He’d been with togruta women before, but never a togruta virgin. Would it be like human virgin women? Would he have to break through -- just thinking about the tightness of her around his cock as he thrust in, the satisfying cry of pain and pleasure Ahsoka would give when he broke past her barrier, made his dick throb freshly again.

His two fingers working inside of her, Ahsoka merely wriggled at first, but soon she was grinding on his hand desperately, with the unsated appetite of a starved animal. They weren’t the perfect grinds of a practiced lover but hungry and raw and inexperienced, and that much more intoxicating for it. Ahsoka hadn’t been lying; she _wanted_ to fuck him, or maybe anyone, and he was just the lucky bastard she found tonight to give it to her. Moving his fingers faster, he brought his second hand back to her clitoris and she really did yell, not a word or his name, just an unintelligible exclamation of pleasure as soon as his fingers touched the swollen, sensitive part of her sex. The combination of his finger-fucking and massaging her clit had her rocking her body and he watched it move in waves, mesmerized. 

He moved faster without planning or thinking, just following the pace she was setting. “Do it!” she said suddenly.

Wolffe frowned and replied, “No, you first. Come first.”

“I ... this feels good but I ...” Ahsoka’s words collapsed into another moan and she rolled her head back as he continued working his fingers inside the warmth of her. The sheets below her were soaked now and Wolffe decided, maybe selfishly, that he’d just about explode if he didn’t do something soon.

“Do it!”

He leaned forward, pants still on but dick out, and using his hand to guide himself, drove into her. She cried out at first -- he felt small resistance but it gave way quickly (so they were the same, then, he vaguely noticed) -- but he kept going, deeper, deeper, until their faces were in line again. Still inside of her, he paused only to make eye contact briefly, to confirm that she was okay, and then he backed out and thrust in again. 

Each time, she jerked against his thrusts but he kept pumping; each time, he fell closer and closer to lying on top of her, feeling blood rushing through him and feeling so impossibly hot, why had he kept his pants on,  _ fuck _ , he should have been completely naked, tangled up completely in her limbs ...

He was now on his elbows over her, their chests grazing as he pushed in, down and deep, up and out, a small figure eight in his movements to maximize how far he could go.

Ahsoka was clawing at his arms and back, moaning, confirming,  _ yes, yes, oh -- oh ... _

He came in a hot rush, spilling inside of her already incredibly wet pussy and leaking onto the already soaked sheets. Sweat and semen and lubrication mixed over their bodies like an ointment of pain relief, completely numbing whatever had brought them together on this night.

Collapsing on her chest, Wolffe let himself pause only for a moment before rolling off of her and pulling his cock out of her. Lying next to each other, they breathed deeply, not saying anything. They laid like that for a while, until Wolffe fell asleep first, rolling onto his side and away from her.

He didn’t know it, of course, he couldn’t have -- he was long asleep -- but Ahsoka laid awake for some time afterwards, feeling sore and proud and terrified. When she couldn’t keep her eyes open a minute longer, she flipped onto her side and faced his back. But she saw the tattoo of his clone breeding group identifier -- his branding, she thought suddenly -- and felt unexpectedly sick. She flipped over, too.

Eventually, sleep came to her too, and they laid like that till the morning, backs to each other and as much space as possible between them that the small, anonymous bed would allow.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long delay! I have another fic that I really need to update, but haven't had the chance to get back into the writing zone. I was hoping that pushing this chapter out would force me out of my writer's block.
> 
> Apologies, guys, for any errors or typos. I wrote this pretty quickly, it was mainly an exercise to get my creative juices going ... please let me know if you catch any mistakes (or have other feedback too!).

“Tano, we need to review --”

“Can’t!” Ahsoka burst out breathlessly, pushing past Wolffe. “I have to see Plo-Koon for some, um, some training.” She didn’t look behind her down the metallic hallway of the docked warship, eyes forward. She couldn’t avoid Wolffe forever, she knew, but she’d been doing a damn good job these past few weeks and she’d keep up the streak for as long as she could.

Her cheeks were still burning and she’d long since left Wolffe behind her.

_ Ugh _ , what was wrong with her? What had she done? Everytime she had a spare moment, every time she was unoccupied, her mind drifted back to that night. It had been, well, it had been ...  _ good _ but also ... ugh, what would she do if anyone found out?

She’d left him in the bed alone early the next morning, gone before he could even say goodbye. Maybe he’d been drunk enough to forget it’d been her; maybe she could convince him that she had no idea what he was talking about. If he brought it up. Which he wouldn’t, because they’d sworn to secrecy, and also, well, she wouldn’t give him the chance to ever bring it up with her.

She wouldn’t think about it.

Wouldn’t think about it. She turned a corner, saw a pair of clone troopers and immediately straightened. She couldn’t be caught blushing and daydreaming like a schoolgirl . She gave them a tight smile and nod; she wasn’t a kid anymore, she couldn’t get away with a cocky greeting and a high-five. She would be a Knight soon, with any luck. Even Anakin, for his dastardly, rebellious reputation, still had the air of dignity and cool confidence that every Jedi knight seemed to have nailed down.

The next hallway was empty. She thought of the sticky feeling between her legs after Wolffe had pulled out of her, she thought of the way she’d split her legs open as wide as possible for him without even thinking, how he’d had her  _ begging _ \--

Footsteps. She didn’t need to turn around to sense her Master and ... Senator Padme? Ahsoka might have cared more about why the Senator and Anakin were strolling from the direction of his cabin, but she was too preoccupied with the thought that  _ oh no oh damn oh crap  _ would he pick up on her ...  _ ugh _ , her ...  _ arousal _ ? The hot flush of her cheeks would be like a fire of lust to a Jedi.

Ahsoka turned the next corner calmly, kept her pace, surprised and relieved that Anakin hadn’t called out to her. Then she  _ bolted _ , footsteps be damned. She made good distance, until  she found herself colliding with a hard chest plate, headfirst. Blinding pain shot through her temple and she barely registered her tailbone hitting the hard floor. 

Horrified that it might be Wolffe, Ahsoka blinked away stars and cracked open an eye, looking up. She saw the double guns though and breathed a sigh of relief. “Sorry, Rex,” she offered sheepishly, closing her eyes and trying to get back to her feet. Rex had managed to stay upright.

He reached out and grabbed her forearm, steadying her. “Where’s the attack?” he joked. She shook her head dazedly and cringed. She heard Rex shuffle, moving to put a hand on her head where she’d hit him. “Nasty bump coming, kid. You were  _ flying  _ down that hallway. The last time I saw you run that fast was when you were late for private meditation lessons with Yoda.” He applied gentle pressure on the wound to test it and she hissed.

“Ow! Rex, stop it!” She pulled out of his grasp. Grumbling, she added, “And I wasn’t  _ late _ . Yoda said to come when I was  _ open, you find you are. _ ” She opened her eyes and crossed her arms defiantly.

“Open to the Force?” Rex asked, still studying her with concern, eyes flicking to her head.

In spite of herself, Ahsoka laughed. “Wait, even  _ you _ knew that? I thought he meant when my  _ schedule _ was open.”

Rex chuckled and stepped closer to her.  “Come on, even you couldn’t have thought that. The Grand Master of the Jedi waiting on the schedule of a padawan?”

Ahsoka let a smirk come over her. Feeling better than she had since stepping foot aboard Plo-Koon’s ship, she said flippantly, “I’m not just  _ any  _ padawan, you know. I’m padawan to the” -- she adopted a breathless, worshipping tone -- ”the  _ Hero -- _ ”

“-- with no fear,” Rex cut in, deadpan. He started walking and beckoned her to follow. She did, without thinking. “You can’t say that around here, honestly. It’s getting to his head as it is.”

“Hey! That’s my Master you’re talking about,” Ahsoka mock warned, waggling a finger at Rex. Deadly, she warned, “Watch yourself.”

“Have you seen the way people throw themselves at him?” Rex continued. “He could have anything and anyone he wanted, if he wasn’t a Jedi.” Ahsoka was surprised to hear both admiration and ...  _ envy _ , almost, in Rex’ voice. Or perhaps not envy; longing. Ahsoka frowned, her brain working while she mulled this over. What did Rex long for? Another thought occured.  _ Who  _ did Rex -- did ... did Rex have ... he  _ must  _ ... she’d just never really thought about it. She knew the clones found comfort in their cups and cupping bare bodies at night but she’d never thought about  _ Rex _ doing that. He was ... but --

“ -- good thing you Jedi have that oath, no bedding for you --”

“What?!” Ahsoka cut in, realizing she hadn’t been paying attention until the words  _ Jedi  _ and  _ bedding  _ appeared in the same sentence. 

Rex look stricken, and he stopped in his tracks. “It was just a joke, Ahsoka. I didn’t mean --”

“It’s fine,” she said hurriedly. They'd talked about it, and they'd shared apologies, but the tension left in Krell's wake still strung between them even after weeks of healing. Dancing carefully, they talked over each other, rushing to apologize.

"It's not a big --"

"The Jedi are really, I mean, they're great --"

"I know you --"

“No, really, I respect your vows, I wasn’t making fun --”

“Making fun of what vows?” A hoarse version of Rex’s voice came down the hall. Ahsoka felt frozen in place, facing Rex. She must have looked like an animal trapped in hunter’s lights, because Rex gave her a confused glance before turning and facing Wolffe at attention. “Sir!” he saluted.

“It’s fine, Captain,” Wolffe waved him off lazily, leaning against the wall. She’d have to face him sooner or later, Ahsoka thought with dread. She turned just as Rex relaxed his arm to his side. He turned his head slightly again to catch her eye, questioning. Of course Rex would know something was wrong -- he didn’t need the Force to read her moods. Ahsoka scowled inwardly. She really did need to work on this whole detaching-herself-from-people thing; maybe then she wouldn’t be such an open book.

Wolffe was watching her intently, Ahsoka knew, Ahsoka  _ felt _ , but she kept her eyes pinned to the inch of air just above his head.

“Commander Tano,” Wolffe greeted, almost coldly.

“Commander Wolffe,” she rejoined equally stiffly.

There was silence.

“Ah, Commanders ...?” Rex, brave Rex, finally ventured. Ahsoka felt her heart swell for the poor fool. He had no idea what he was jumping into. Quite literally jumping into, too; Rex moved to stand in front of Ahsoka, blocking her from Wolffe’s view. He saluted her, to cover up the awkward maneuver, and ventured, “Maybe we should get to that meeting, with ... General Skywalker ...”

“Thought you had training with Plo-Koon?” Wolffe accussed gruffly from behind Rex. 

Ahsoka felt her face darken. Rex raised his eyebrows at this but turned sharply around. “That’s what I meant, sir, escort Tano to her training with Plo-Koon, er, must have gotten, ah, mixed up, long days --”

“I’ll escort her.”

“No,” Ahsoka interjected. “I can take myself --”

“We have some things we should discuss, Tano,” Wolffe insisted calmly, pulling away from the wall he was leaning on. “Step aside, Captain. You’re dismissed.”

Rex gave Ahsoka a small, helpless shrug and moved out of the way. Wolffe walked towards her; Ahsoka tried to not pay attention to the fact that he was stripped down from his armour, in a cotton white t-shirt that showed off sculpted, if scarred and tattooed, arms. In the interest of saving what little dignity she had left in front of Rex, Ahsoka turned on her heel and led the way.

She felt Rex’s eyes on their backs and Wolffe must have too, because he took the first turn he could. He was walking quickly; he had a destination, she could tell that much. Another corner, another turn, and then a door that he swiped his keycard through --

\-- it was a closet.

“Really?” Ahsoka scoffed. “We’re talking  _ here _ ?” She pushed a mop handle out of the way and leaned her back against the wall. 

“It might actually be nicer than the motel we were at last time,” Wolffe smirked a bit, just a flicker of a shared, secret memory over his face. His cybernetic eye stopped impulsively scanning the room for threats and centered, focusing on her. His real eye hadn’t once left her.

Ahsoka ducked her head, looking away. “Look, I don’t want to talk about --”

“You’re ashamed.” It wasn’t a question.

Ahsoka didn’t have the graciousness or tact to handle this delicately. “Of  _ course  _ I’m ashamed!” she hissed. “I’m a  _ jedi _ , I ... I have  _ plans _ , Wolffe. I want to be a Knight someday -- you think they’ll let me if ... I mean, forget if they’ll  _ let  _ me, even if they never found out, I don’t even deserve, I can’t even uphold the most  _ basic _ ...  _ ugh _ , it’s nothing personal, I just --”

“You’re ashamed of  _ you _ ,” Wolffe nodded sagely. Ahsoka sighed wearily.

“Yeah. Guess so.”

Wolffe came close, nuding a dustpan out of his way, resting a hand on either side of her and leaning in. “I thought it was just about non-attachment?” he mused quietly. Ahsoka bit her lip in thought and she felt Wolffe’s pulse quicken while he watched. She stopped.

“I was pretty damn attached to you,” she said bitterly. “That’s not our way. That’s not what I want to be.”

“You left pretty quick the next morning ... didn’t seem attached at all.”

“I meant  _ physically _ ,” she replied dryly.

“Well then that’s it, ain’t it?” his voice dropped to something husky that made  _ her  _ pulse quicken. He came in closer so his chest was pressed gently against her breasts. She pushed back into the wall, trying to create space between them, and he chuckled gently. Leaning in, he stroked one of her lekkus and breathed, “Just don’t get attached to me, just use me for a good fuck, and you’re off the hook, right?”

“That’s not how it works --” she tried to argue, shuddering under his touch. Calloused fingers on her smooth lekkus, creating effortless friction.

“It’s nothing to fixate on,” he reassured, pushing his mouth into her neck and biting. “Nothing to get jealous or irrational about.” He brought his hands to his waist and circled it, pulling her closer. She pushed her shoulder blades into the wall now, with the unintended (truthfully, very intended) effect of thrusting her pelvis forward. “No attachments. You just need a cock in you every now and then, no shame in that.”

“Wolffe!” she whispered in admonishment, closing her eyes in pleasure all the same when he brought his hands sliding up her abdomen. Over her clothes, he trailed his fingers, circling her breasts but never landing on them. “ _ Wolffe _ , just --”

He surprised her by moving suddenly, pulling her tights and skirt down. Feeling embarrassingly exposed, she shifted her legs to cover herself but Wolffe grabbed her thighs and held her steady. “Don’t,” he whispered. His right hand crawled over her thigh and Ahsoka tensed, throwing her head back. He latched his mouth onto her now exposed neck, and just as he bit down, he thrust two fingers into her roughly. She gasped at the intrusion and tensed, writhing.

“You like having me inside you, don’t you?” he asked quietly, coming back to her ear and running his tongue along her lekkus. “You’d like any of your clones inside you. How many would you like to fuck at once?” His tone was gently amused, not accusatory, and Ahsoka got the sense that he was trying to play a game. 

Flustered and out of her element and every nerve in her reaching out to touch Wolffe, she couldn’t figure the game out. “Ah,  I don’t know, I just want, I ...  _ ah _ ...”

“Three of us?” He asked, bringing his thumb to start swirling over her clitoris and Ahsoka moaned, too loudly, and Wolffe had to smother the sound with a heavy, wet kiss. Pushing his tongue around hers, he wouldn’t let her make any headway into his mouth and she gave up, letting him molest the inside of her mouth with his tongue. 

Pulling up for air, he prompted again, “I got a couple that would be up for it. A lot of them would like a chance with you.” He laughed a bit, a low rumbling that Ahsoka felt more than heard. He pulled back for a moment, Ahsoka saw him unbuttoning and pushing down his cargo pants, while he asked, “You know why we call him Sinker?” He smirked when Ahsoka was glad the room was dark enough to hide her flush. She had, in fact, never bothered to ask what exactly he was so good at sinking into.

She waited for him to come back, lean in again, but he just stood there, watching her. She froze, her vagina throbbing and wet, aching like a bruise, heat swirling over her body like his tongue had been. What was he waiting for?

Then she understood. She had come this far, she supposed. “Get over here,” she commanded, stepping outside of her clothes that had pooled around her ankles. Taking a steadying breath, she added shakily, “I ...” (It was still hard to say, much easier to do) “...I want you to fuck me, Wolffe.”

He leaned in, one hand on either side of her head, like at the beginning of this escapade. “You sure? Because a few minutes ago you were telling me how ashamed you were, and I’m not looking forward to another few weeks of you turning tail and running every time you see me.”

Ahsoka was surprised at the hint of hurt in his voice. She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “Look, Wolffe, I don’t know ... I don’t know how this works or what ... I'm sorry,” she stopped, exhaling deeply and leaning back to look at the ceiling of the closet. “I want it. I just ... don’t want to think about it, okay?” She hooked her fingers through his belt loops and tried to drag him closer. He complied, shuffling forward, and she felt his stiff cock against her thigh. 

She adjusted, sliding to the side, so his erection was between her legs and not on one of them. With more boldness than she felt, she squeezed her thighs together and watched Wolffe jerk, shaking at the sensation. “You going to or no?” she demanded, wondering if she’d scare him off or maybe she  _ should  _ scare him off and oh,  _ crap _ , what was she thinking and maybe she should leave now before he could leave first ...

He put his hands under her hamstrings and shoved upwards. He missed the first time, only creating friction of his cock against her thighs. She brought a hand down to help him aim the second time, holding it against her, and this time, he slid inside of her easily. 

She wrapped her legs around him and her arms around his neck, letting him support more of his weight as he leaned them into the wall, gyrating against her, filling her with him. He groaned, deep and loud, and this time Ahsoka had to shove her mouth on his to kiss him quiet. He half-laughed, half-moaned at this change in place, and rewarded her by pulling further out and then thrusting  _ deep _ , staying inside of her and rocking his hips to create friction against her pelvis and clitoris. Ahsoka  _ knew  _ what her erogenous zones did, and of course she’d played with them before she’d been old enough to be chastised about it, but what  _ Wolffe  _ did ... he played her well, brushing his rough skin against the softest parts of her that created so much pleasure it was painful. She half wanted him to rub his whole palm on her, half wanted to jerk away from the pressure building.

His pounding was heavier, and he was less careful about creating friction for her, and then  _... _

“ _ Oh _ ,” was all that escaped him when he filled her with fluid, much of it trickling down her legs and back down his dick from their upright position. “Oh, fuck.  _ Fuck _ .” He leaned his sweaty head into her neck, breathing deeply. Ahsoka kept her legs tight around him, still supporting herself, firmly refusing to think about what she’d just done, just enjoying the feeling while she had it.

He mumbled, “Sorry about that, should have got you off first ...” his sentence trailed off and he sighed contentedly again, resting for a moment before he adjusted and pulled out of her. Ahsoka, legs trembling, unwrapped herself and stood on her own again. 

“You think anyone --”

“No, it’s well past quitting time, most of the boys will be on the town by now,” Wolffe replied curtly, pulling his pants up. Ahsoka did the same, trying to fix herself up. It was hard to feel clean with illicit semen running down her legs, but she consoled herself with the fact that Anakin would long be gone out with Senator Padme by now. She just had to make it to her cabin on the ship and shower as soon as possible, she thought. She focused on the mechanics; the route she’d take, how she’d avoid the common areas in case anyone was around ...

She was still thinking of this when she parted ways with Wolffe, walking quickly down the hall.

This time, she didn’t crash into him despite her distractions. She felt his apprehension and horror as he drew close to her. “Commander! I was waiting for you,” he whispered from behind her, trodding to catch up. “Command --  _ Ahsoka _ !” he hissed, falling in step with her.

Ahsoka felt calm. No, she felt ... numb. She felt absolutely nothing at all. She continued walking, eyes forward, ignoring Rex as he walked along beside her. Just get to her cabin just get to her cabin just ... Her room, she was at her room. She brought her card up, swiped it, and the door opened.

She was sure Rex would leave her alone by now, she was in no mood to talk, but to her surprise, he pushed her through the doorway to her room and let it close shut behind him. 

“Ahsoka!” Rex demanded, although still whispering. She finally looked at him. His eyes were lit with worry and ... anger? His eyes moved from her lips to her neck and he paled. “What did he  _ do _ to you?”


End file.
